Locked
by ficdirectory
Summary: Derek is trapped in a nightmare and needs Garcia to help him escape. **Nominated: Best Tragedy/Angst in the 2010 Criminal Minds Fanfiction Awards at LiveJournal**


This was the kind of thing that ate Derek alive. These kinds of cases. The ones with longstanding sexual abuse. The ones where children were the victims. It reminded him, and it drove him, because once, he had been the child in need, and nobody had come to help.

Sometimes, he still thought about the man who violated him. Who took everything about the person he would have been away and buried it so deep that Derek could never find it.

It hurt when the team started digging up all his dirt. He felt out of control, but there was nothing he could do about it. This time, he was the one in cuffs. The suspect. The profiled.

As much as he wanted to, Derek couldn't forget about that day, and he couldn't fully trust that anyone would be there for him if he needed them. Not his team and not his family.

Sometimes, he just locked himself in a room and slept. Woke up screaming, sure, but at least he tried for it. He couldn't shake the habit of locking himself in, because you never really knew who was out there. You couldn't do what he and his team did and not take precautions. But his precautions seemed to sneak up that much more often when he was reminded of his past and his demons. It hurt to remember. It hurt to shut it down. It hurt that everybody at work knew, and they could see it on him, like a stain.

Tonight, he dreamed again. It was vivid and graphic. Another kid, gone missing. Another child killed. And when Derek got closer, he could see. That dead kid was him.

He screamed himself awake, thrashing free from the grips of the nightmare. His heart pounded crazily in his chest, and before he could think better of it, or look at the time, he picked up the phone.

***

"Derek?" Garcia managed, snagging her phone as it played the chorus of Ashford & Simpson's Solid. It was their song, but Derek didn't know it.

"Garcia?" he returned.

He sounded breathless and tentative, and not like himself at all. It was his nightmare voice, that no one was supposed to hear. Because Derek's nightmares weren't about bad cases, they were about his childhood, and that bastard that used and hurt him and blackmailed him into staying silent.

"He killed me..." Derek whispered, sounding terrified.

Though her heart was breaking, Garcia forced herself to stay strong. Derek needed her to stay strong and not fall apart, not now.

"Derek? Listen to me. It's Penelope. You're here with me, and everything's okay. He can't hurt you. Not on my watch. Do you hear me? Do you understand?"

Silence grew on the other end of the line until Garcia wondered if he wasn't dreaming. If maybe he was trying to tell her something and she hadn't listened. "Derek? Come on. Answer me!"

"Garcia?" he asked again, sounding confused. "What happened?"

"Are you okay?" she pressed.

"Yeah... I think so... Why?"

"You called me and said somebody killed you," she passed along, breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought it was a nightmare but then you got really quiet so I started to worry."

"Don't. I'm fine," Derek insisted.

***

"Well, I know _that's_ not true," Garcia objected. "You want to talk? I can be over in five."

"Nah, stay home and get some sleep," Derek told her. The truth, of course, was that he didn't want her coming around, and finding out he slept with his door locked, like a coward.

"Honey, I did the same thing," Garcia said, compassion in her voice as she got up and filled her to-go cup with coffee. "After I lost my parents, I was terrified. I was still living at home and the whole house seemed so empty. I felt totally vulnerable. The outside world felt so dangerous, it seemed like the only way to stay safe."

"You comin' or not?" he asked, impatience masking his fear.

"Coming, and not to worry, I've got a hanger."

***

He tried, but Derek couldn't bring himself to unlock the door. When his front door opened, Derek reached for his gun. His heart had jumped to his throat. Dream scenes and reality were a little fuzzy right now, and his body wasn't sure which was which.

"Derek, it's Garcia," she said, still on the phone. "If you shoot me, I won't be able to help, okay? So put down your gun and sit tight. I'm at your bedroom door, okay, and this noise you're gonna hear is me jamming this wire hanger into your lock."

Derek took a breath and set his gun on the bedside table. Then, he stood, body braced and fists clenched.

"Hold tight. I'm almost in. Three, two..."

_Just relax. I'm almost in. Three, two..._

Derek tensed as the door opened. "Back up. Back up! Don't even think about it, or I'll blow your damn head off! Understand?"

***

Garcia reached blindly for the light switched and flipped it on.

"Derek! It's Penelope! I came in, just like I said I was going to! I'm just here to help. Okay?" Garcia gentled her tone as awareness came into Derek's eyes, little by little.

He was standing, tense, near the foot of the bed, fists clenched and ready to fight. There had been no recognition at all in his eyes, until now.

Slowly, Garcia moved forward, her hands up to show she meant no harm. "Come on. You want to sit out in the living room?" she asked.

He followed, his head down. When they got to the couch, they both stood awkwardly for a few seconds.

"What do you need?" Penelope asked softly.

Derek sat down cautiously. "I don't know."

"Just take your time." She took a few steps back, not wanting to intimidate him somehow.

"Sit close, but don't touch me," he said, his voice hushed.

Obediently, Garcia sat, leaving an inch of space between them, waiting quietly to see if he wanted to say anything more.

"Don't say that to me...what you said when you opened the door..." Derek spoke to the darkness, his voice heavy and quiet.

"Okay. I won't. I'll never say it again. I promise," Garcia agreed. She hated the idea that she had made things worse for him.

He nodded, still tense, but seemed to relax a little at her words.

"Why'd you come?" he rasped. "Nobody ever came for me..."

Garcia stared at him. She had to work hard not to hold his hand or put her arms around him. Instead, she busied herself, taking a sip of coffee.

"Simple," she said, sending him a smile like a candle in an endless night. "I wanted you to know you weren't alone."


End file.
